Dancing Queen
by efflorescences
Summary: Alicia Rivera is the only girl who had to bribe her way into the prestigious Westchester Dance Academy. Truth is, she's not very flexible, and can't memorize routines. But dance is her passion, and she loves it with all her heart. She desperately wants to become a 'dancing queen,' but she's going to have to work harder than ever before. AU. OOC.
1. back for another year

**Hey, y'all! I know, I'm totally ignoring the results of my poll. Anyone can take up All That Glitters Isn't Gold and Two Massies are Better Than One, I really don't care. Just PM me. **

**Wanted to get this out there, I can't stand all these ideas bouncing around inside my brain. Anyways, this is a different way of portraying Alicia. Face it: nobody's perfect. Not even Alicia Rivera. **

**Giving writing in first person & present tense a shot. -.-**

**Sorry for deleting Royalty, it might be back up soon. Wrote this a while ago (about three months?), but never published it. I think it's about time. R&R please!**

**xx,  
Rachel**

_Disclaimer: _Sadly, I don't own the Clique, Lisi Harrison does.

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i.  
back for another year

"Bye, Mom! Love you!" I blow my mom an air-kiss, and shut the car door behind me as I get out. I'm starting my eighth grade year at Westchester Dance Academy tomorrow. I always like to get to school a day early, so I can set up my room and explore the school. I forget things easily, so I always take advantage of arriving a day early to remember where classrooms are.

I push open the double doors and walk in. I quickly run up three flights of stairs to reach my dorm. I open the door, panting, and find that my roommate, Justine, is already there. She's sitting cross-legged on her bed, tapping away on her laptop. I know she's shopping for a new pair of ballet shoes online. It's her beginning-of-the-year ritual. She does it every year.

I make my way over to my bed on the other side of the room and set my leather Coach bag down on the ground. At the Westchester Dance Academy, or the WDA, you don't need to bring anything. Everyone wears uniforms that are custom-made to fit your body shape, and for dance classes, dance clothes that are also custom-made. Everything you need for your dance classes are available at the shop on the first floor. You purchase stuff with your student ID card, and you get "money" by getting good grades. Everyone eats at the cafeteria at WDA, and your meals are custom-made to meet your needs.

Justine looks up, finally noticing that I've arrived. "Hey, Alicia. Welcome back," she says.

"Hey," I say back. After a few moments of awkward silence, we both slowly return to what we were doing before. In Justine's case, shopping for new ballet shoes. In my case, nothing.

Suddenly, the door opens, and one of the dancing queens, Paige Meyers, walks in. "Justine Carter and Alicia Rivera?" she asks. Justine and I nod. Paige pulls out two laminated cards from her dance bag and hands them to us. "Here are your schedules. Welcome back." She smiles at us, and walks out, shutting the door behind her. I put my schedule card in my Coach bag, not even bothering to look at it. I already know what it says. It's the same thing every year. Normal classes (math, English, science, etc.) in the morning, dance in the afternoon. I've got it memorized by now.

You're probably wondering what a "dancing queen" is. Dancing queens are dancers who have mastered all the levels in dance. They help coach dancers, and they supervise everyone. When you become a dancing queen, you get a crown and everything. But becoming a dancing queen is mostly about the bragging rights. The dancing queens parade around the school with a "DQ" crown charm on their charm bracelets. Everyone looks up to them. Everyone wants to be one of them. Including me.

You don't have to pass all the levels to become a dancing queen. There are some exceptions. If you're a really good dancer, but you haven't reached level ten yet, you can still be crowned a dancing queen. You're given the privileges to coach people in levels lower than the one you're on. Being crowned a dancing queen when you haven't finished all the levels is a very high honor.

I'm starting pointe this year. I'm scared. I've been going to the WDA since I was eight. The charms on my bracelet tell me that I've passed levels one through five. There's ten levels. Six through ten are pointe levels. I don't think I'll be able to do them.

I'm not flexible at all. I can't really point my toes either. It's a wonder how I became a ballet dancer at all. But my dad knows the headmaster of the Westchester Dance Academy. He paid a bunch of money to get me in. Everyone else got in on scholarship. They were all chosen by Miss Kelly. But not me.

Five years ago, my dad really wanted to get rid of me. He never wanted to have a daughter. My mom can't have any more children, so my dad's really disappointed. I've been a huge disappointment. He tried signing me up for every sport imaginable, but I couldn't do them. We tried ice-skating. Horseback riding (I fell off the horse on the first day). He tried to get me to do art. I tried the piano. The violin. The flute. Nothing worked. Then we tried dancing. I really liked dancing, even though I'm the most physically uncoordinated person on earth. My teacher said I should just quit, because I didn't have what it takes to become a dancer. I had the determination, though. I was heartbroken after my dad made me quit dance. When he found out about the Westchester Dance Academy, he decided to send me there. He didn't want me anymore. All I've been to him is a big disappointment. So I went to the WDA.

From the start, I could tell that I was different from everyone else. The older girls would do splits and high kicks in the middle of the hallways. I felt like a loser standing next to them. During my first year here, everyone would tease me about how I could barely even touch my toes. I barely passed level one that year. The next year, I was put in a private class. The people who are in private classes are either really good or really sucky. Most people in a private class are really good. I'm the only exception.

I struggled through levels two through five. As you would expect, the levels got harder and harder. It took me about six months to master pirouettes, and 50% of the time I don't even land correctly. So you can't really say I "mastered" them. My private teacher, Miss Ross, said that we would be starting double pirouettes this year. I'm gonna die.

I'm getting fitted for pointe shoes tomorrow. I'm probably going to need one of those super pre-arched shoes. I can't believe I'm only starting pointe now. Everyone at the WDA usually starts when they're 10 or 11. I'm 13 now. Miss Ross wanted to wait until she thought I was "ready." Then she realized that I'll probably never be "ready," so we're starting this year. She wants me to try to practice pointing my toes more, but I _do _try. It just doesn't work.

"Omigosh, I just bought the cutest bag ever!" Justine squeals. I raise my eyebrows in a I-thought-you-were-shopping-for-ballet-shoes sort of way. Justine rolls her eyes and says, "The bag was for ballet. Duh." She motions for me to come over to her bed. I slowly make my way over, and she makes room for me to sit. She shows me the computer screen and I have to say, it _is _the cutest bag ever. If you're me or Justine, that is. If you like pink, girly stuff, that is. The bag is pink and fuzzy and has "dance" written in cursive on it.

"I want one too!" I exclaim.

Now it's Justine's turn to raise her eyebrows. "Um, Alicia? No offense, but I thought you weren't allowed to buy stuff like this."

Oh, right. I almost forgot about that. You see, my dad's super rich, but he doesn't let me have any credit cards, or any money at all, for that matter. There's really no need to buy clothes, because everything you need will be supplied by the school. There's a spa on the first floor that almost every single girl goes to, but it costs extra money, and my dad forbids me from going there. Bummer. I could really use a manicure.

"I know, but can't a girl hope?" I say. Justine laughs and returns to her online shopping. I take this as my cue to go back to my side of the room. I plop down on my bed and sigh loudly. Why am I not allowed to buy anything at this school? I guess my life is just crappy like that. I flip onto my back and stare at the ceiling.

"Alexia! Hey!" I jump up, startled. Justine has her cell phone out and is currently chatting with her best friend, Alexia. That's another thing I don't have. A best friend. Or a cell phone. Since I'm in a private class, I don't get to spend much time with the other students. I'm like a social outcast. I sit alone at lunch, and sometimes I eat in the library. When I'm really depressed, I eat in the bathroom, but that rarely happens.

I catch a glimpse of my reflection in Justine's full-length mirror. The same waist-length black hair, same chocolate brown eyes, same ski-slope nose, same pink lips stare back at me. I never wear any makeup, because I have no time. I know I'm pretty, but I don't really try to show it. What's the point?

I really wish I had a best friend. Things would be much better around here. But right now, my main goal is to survive through another year. Just like it is every year.

I'm back. Alicia Rivera is back for another year at the Westchester Dance Academy. This is my year. I can feel it in my bones.

* * *

**So here's the first chapter of another story from yours truly. Love it? Hate it? Got any suggestions? Review, please!**


	2. pointe shoes & new students

**a/n: yes, other clique characters will be in here. that's all i'm saying. it was originally part of the plan i had for this story, so...read on to find out! btw, thanks for all your reviews! you guys are awesome. **

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ii.  
pointe shoes & new students

That afternoon, I swing my legs back and forth nervously as I sit on the chair in the pointe shoes store. I check my watch for the millionth time in five minutes. Miss Ross is late. You would think that I would be her top priority, since I'm apparently 'really sucky,' and need 'extra help.' But no. I bet she's caught up in some stupid meeting that's more important to her than me. Ugh.

Five minutes later, I finally snap. I take out my mandatory school-issued iPhone and call Miss Ross. It goes to voicemail. Of course. I decide to leave a message anyway, even though she never checks her voicemail. "Hey, Miss Ross. Alicia here. Um, I'm supposed to be fitted for pointe shoes. Now. So yeah."

By this time, I'm seriously bored out of my mind, so I resort to counting how many pairs of pointe shoes there are in French. The WDA has some stupid philosophy that we should all learn French, because ballet vocab is all in French.

_Un, deux, trois, quatre, cinq, six, sept, huit, neuf, dix. Onze, douze, treize, quatorze, quinze, seize, dix-sept, dix-huit, dix-neuf, vingt. Vingt et un, vingt-deux, vingt-tro-_

"Sorry I'm late." I jump up, startled, only to see Miss Ross walking in the store. "Alicia. You ready?"

"I was born ready," I mutter.

"Actually, you were born extremely unflexible, but never mind that. We're getting there, right?"

"Yeah, sure."

"Great!" Miss Ross smiles. She walks over to the hundreds of shelves lined with pointe shoes. "What size are you again?"

"Six," I say. "But don't you have to go one size down or something for pointe shoes?"

Miss Ross shrugs. "Something like that." She pulls down a pair of size five Capezio shoes and hands it to me. I slip into them and immediately find that they're way too small for me. I can barely pointe my toes. "Too big?" she asks. I nod. She puts it back and takes out a size five and a half shoe. This one fits better, but feels way too uncomfortable. Miss Ross must sense this (she is a professional ballerina, after all), and makes me take it off.

"What are we going to do with you, Alicia?" She sighs. "We need a super pre-arched one." After a few minutes of searching, she finds one. "Try this on."

It's a Bloch 'Serenade' shoe, and it's a pretty pale pink. I decide that I like the look of this one. Miss Ross orders me to stand up, and I do. "Does it feel tight around your toes?"

"No, just snug," I answer.

"Go en pointe," she orders. I wince, but slowly manage to stand en pointe. A searing pain shoots through my leg, but I grit my teeth and manage a smile. "Does the box feel like it's hugging your foot?"

I only nod.

"Okay, scale of 1-10, how hard is it to go en pointe?"

Well, I can barely feel my feet right now, and my legs are slowly going numb as well. But it doesn't hurt. And it was pretty easy to get into that 'en pointe' position. So maybe that's why I say, "5."

"Really, 5?" She looks surprised. "I expected an 8 or higher. I mean, knowing you."

I laugh uncomfortably. "Surprisingly, it doesn't hurt that much."

"Alicia, you can come down now. From pointe."

Yeah, you know what the problem is? I can't. But maybe this is good for me . . .

"Does it feel stiff, Alicia? Is that why you can't come down?" Miss Ross asks, worriedly.

I shake my head. "It's fine." After a few more seconds, I manage to get down. My feet hurt a lot, but I ignore the pain and pull the shoes off. "I like this pair. Fits really well," I tell Miss Ross. "Can we check out now?" I want to get out of here as soon as I can, because of my feet.

"Slow down, Alicia. You need to buy the ribbons and elastics. Don't forget to sew them on at home. You also need 'ouch pouches,' and a bag to hold your shoes. Oh, and tape, to tape your toes so you don't get blisters or start bleeding or anything." I just stare at her blankly. "Fine, I'll get them for you. What color do you want for your bag?"

"Pink," I say. "Pale pink."

"Okay," Miss Ross says. "Just wait on that bench."

I sit down on the bench at the front of the store and let my mind wander. It's been five long years at this school. I've barely accomplished anything. I mean, I know how to do the dances, but I'm just not good at them. And when it comes to memorizing routines, my brain turns into mush. I can do it if you break it down into tiny steps, but this is the Westchester Dance Academy. Things are tough here. It's either go big or go home.

Speaking of going home, once you reach pointe, they start sending kids home every year. At the end of the year, you have to take this exam. If you pass, you get your next charm and get to spend another year here. If you fail, you go home. Guess what I'll probably be doing in one year?

That's why I have to step up my game. I'll do whatever it takes to stay at this school. Because my heart's in dance, and I'm not leaving.

"Ready to check out?" I snap out of my daydreams and quickly nod at Miss Ross. I pull out my student ID card, which everyone calls their 'credit card,' because, if you couldn't tell by the nickname, it's used just like a credit card. I check out as fast as I can.

"Well, that was fast. Usually we go through five of six pairs before finding the perfect pair. I guess you're just special, Alicia."

_Not in a good way_, I think. And know. "Well, bye, Miss Ross! See you when classes start tomorrow!"

As I'm walking out the door, I hear Miss Ross say, "Oh yeah, Alicia? You'll be taking group classes again this year. Along with your private classes."

Crap. Group classes suck, at least for me, because I just _know _everyone's going to laugh at me. Because I just suck that much.

It'll be a miracle if I make it through this year.

**: :**

I powerwalk through the halls, focusing on getting to the third floor, where my dorm room is. _Just focus on putting one foot in front of the other_, I tell myself repeatedly. I'm not even past the front door when I feel am arm on my shoulder. I whirl around and find myself face-to-face with a really pretty brunette. She has piercing amber eyes with gold flecks in them. I immediately feel intimidated by this girl.

"Hi, I'm Massie Block." This girl seems oddly friendly, so I shake her hand when she offers it out to me. Her grip is firm and controlling. I decide that I like this girl.

"I'm Alicia Rivera," I say. "I'm guessing you're new here. No one ever talks to me."

"Yeah, I'm new here," Massie says. "Why don't people ever talk to you? You seem nice enough."

"I don't exactly try to make friends. Nice isn't the only factor. And because I'm not the best dancer, no one even bothers to talk to me." I try to shrug it off and make it sound like it's no big deal, but it is. And I think Massie sees that.

"Well, I don't have any friends here either. I'll be your first friend," she offers.

All I can do is smile, because I really have no clue what else to do. "So, um, why are you transferring here in eighth grade, at least, that's what grade I'm assuming you're in, since you have to be, like, exceptionally good to audition at this time and get in?"

"I've done ballet since I was three years old, at Body Alive Dance Studio, and the WDA offered me a spot in the academy when I was eight, but I never accepted. Because I wanted to lead a normal life, you know?" I nod like I understand where she's going with this (really, I don't). "But I decided that I want to pursue dance professionally, so here I am!"

"Here you are," is all I can think of saying.

"So, how's-"

Before Massie has a chance to finish, Principal Coleman (who, by the way, isn't mean _at all, _she's actually a really nice woman in her mid-forties, and a retired prima ballerina) interrupts. "Hey, girls!" she says cheerfully. "Alicia, I see that you've already met our new student, Massie Block. That's great, since you guys will be roommates!"

"Wait, what about Justine?" I ask, before getting too excited.

"She's rooming with Alexia," Principal Coleman answers. "Alexia's roommate moved to Florida, so there's an opening. You're still in the same dorm, Alicia. Would you like to show Massie to her room?"

I smile at Massie. "Sure," I tell the principal.

"Okay, I'll leave you girls to talk by yourselves. Remember, the welcome-back breakfast is at 7 o'clock tomorrow. Don't be late!" Principal Coleman leaves, and I'm alone with Massie again.

"So are you starting pointe this year, or are you already _en pointe_?" I ask. I know it's a stupid question, since she totally looks like she's super flexible and already en pointe.

"Actually, I'm just starting this year," Massie says, much to my shock. Sensing this, she laughs and says, "Oh, two years ago, I got in trouble at BADS because I was absent more than three times. They have this stupid rule that says if you're absent more than three times, you have to start pointe a year late."

"Wow. I'm just starting as well. But for completely different reasons. I'm not flexible at all, and can _not _point my toes."

"I'm sure you're not that bad."

"I am. You don't want to see me try to go en pointe. Today, when I was getting fitted for pointe shoes, my feet and legs went numb. That's how much it hurts to go en pointe."

"Ouch," Massie says. "Well, I'll help you survive pointe. We can help each other through dance!" _  
_

"Thanks," I say. "Shall we get going to the third floor?"

"Sure." Massie giggles, and we link arms and start to make our way up the stairs.

Surviving another year at Westchester Dance Academy sure will be a lot easier with a friend by my side.

* * *

**well, um, i don't really remember the process of getting pointe shoes, because it was a few months ago when i got my most recent pair. i'm pretty sure i'll be getting new ones soon. lol, all these characters are ooc, because, y'know, massie's _nice. _**

**you know what to do. :)**

**xo,  
rachel  
**


	3. first day drama

**a/n: **i'm now sparkle filled hearts. like the new pen name? i changed my writing style a bit, lol. **beta-read **by the ah-mazing **ailes du neige **(because i thought it was time i got a beta-reader).

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**iii.**  
first day drama

I wake up with extremely messy hair and colossally sized bags underneath my eyes from staying up until 3, talking to Massie Block. I turn on my phone and check the time: 6:45 A.M. I silently curse, because breakfast is at 7. Cautiously glancing over at Massie's side of the room, I find her soundly sleeping, eye mask on and all. Her right arm was thrown around a stuffed dog; Her sheets were purple (the color of royalty, perhaps) and made of silk. I couldn't help but think that she looked like a princess, or better yet, a queen.

_How should I wake her up?_ I tap my chin, deep in thought. After a few seconds, I've got it. I pull out my iPhone, open up my music library, and start playing _Primadonna Girl _on full volume. This seems to do the trick, because she immediately sits up, peels off her eye mask, and starts rubbing her tired eyes.

"Leesh, what time is it?" she asks, yawning.

"Time to get a watch, or better yet, an alarm clock, Mass," I grin slyly. "We have to be down for breakfast in ten. So move it."

"What? I need at least an hour to get ready!" Massie shrieks. "Why didn't you wake me up earlier?"

I throw a pillow at her, walk over to her closet, and pull out her uniform. Unlike mine, the skirt's royal purple and her polo's light lavender. The color of her ballet flats were white, though, like everyone else's. I decide that I like her uniform better than mine, because pink is _not _the color of royalty, purple is.

"Here you go, Massie." I toss the uniform at her, and she smile-thanks me. I stand there like an idiot for a few seconds before realizing that she wants me to turn around so she can change, then I do just that.

I change into my own uniform, which, just like Massie's, consists of a polo, a skirt, and white ballet flats; Except mine is pink. I retrieve my hairbrush and attempt to straighten my bedhead hair, but it stays a lackluster mess, knotting near the skull and the split ends. Meanwhile, Massie's succeeding in smoothing out her hair; those auburn tresses look as glossy and perfect as ever. She notices this, and says, "Here, let me help." Within ten seconds, my black hair is just as glossy and perfect as hers.

We speed-brush our teeth, and decide to go with no makeup today, except for a touch of gloss. Massie uses this brand called Glossip Girl that I've never even heard of. When I ask her, she replies with, "It's for alphas only." _What's an alpha? _I think to myself, afraid to say it out loud. I shrug it off and apply my own MAC lip gloss.

"Done!" Massie says. I check my watch. 6:57.

"We have three minutes. Hurry!" I grab my pre-packed dance bag and fling the door open, with Massie on my heels.

"You ready for a day of dance?" Massie asks as we run down the stairs. I shake my head. "Don't wory, Leesh. You'll do great today," she reassures me.

Why couldn't I have met Massie Block five years ago?

**: :**

To say that we make it in the nick of time is an understatement. Literally just seating ourselves at the level six table is when Principal Coleman begins her yearly welcome-back speech. I almost fall asleep every year; she just drones on and on about how dance is an excellent way to express yourself, and you can be one with the music, yada, yada, yada. When you've heard the same 'inspirational' speech for five years, it's not exactly _that _inspirational anymore.

A few minutes into the speech, I notice that Massie is diligently listening to the principal. It figures, since it's her first year here and all. I swear, that girl really is something.

"I have a few important announcements to make, so everyone, listen up." This gets my attention. I sit up straight in my chair and listen expectantly. "This year, some changes will be made around here," Principal Coleman continues. "Anyone can become a 'dancing queen,' even if they haven't passed all the levels. If you're amazing at dance, but only on level three or four, you still get the privilege of being a dancing queen."

"Psst," Massie taps me on the shoulder, and I turn to her. "What's a 'dancing queen?" she whispers.

"Didn't you read the Westchester Dance Academy handbook they gave to you?" I whisper back.

"No," she says.

I don't get the chance to respond because Miss Ross, who isn't just my private teacher, she's also the Level Six coach (the coach goes with you as you move to higher levels), shushes us and tells us to pay attention. So, I do.

"There will be a dance contest at the end of every semester. Trophies will be given out to the top three dancers in every level." Principal Coleman pauses for a second to let this sink in. "And last but not least, we're having a schoolwide conpetition. Dancers, listen up: find three or four of your best dance buddies and form a group. Come up with a name, a dance, and design costumes. You have the whole year to do this. Celebrity judges will be brought in when you perform at the biggest recital yet. Each dancer on the winning team will win one million dollars. Good luck!"

A buzz of conversation about this new opportunity immediately begins. I turn to Massie, whose amber eyes are sparkling with joy. "Leesh, I know I don't need any more money, but this is an ah-mazing opportunity! We'll have fun, and learn a lot of stuff."

Yeah, yeah. I'm so not psyched about this. "I hate to rain on your parade, but there's one small problem. No one will want to team up with me. I'm notoriously known across school as 'the girl who can't dance.' I can't change my rep now, Mass. No one's going to want to dance with me. I'm sorry. It's okay if you ditch me, I don't mind. Go team up with someone else." Tears start to well up in my chocolate brown eyes, but I bite my lip and they quickly go away.

"Leesh, I would never ditch you. You're the only friend I've got at the WDA. I'll stand by you through it all. Don't worry, with me by your side, we'll find a great team. Girls will be begging to join our squad. You can count on it."

**: :**

First days are always boring. The morning was a mess of introductions, rules, and papers & forms to sign. It's enough to make a girl go crazy. But when I've finally made it through, it's now lunchtime. There's this hunch that I have that the day's just going to get worse, because after lunch is dance lessons. Four long, tedious hours of dance. In group class. And after dinner, I have private class for an hour.

As soon as I step foot in the cafeteria, Massie waves me over. I rush to sit next to her, and she immediately starts babbling about how great this school is, and all I can do is smile and nod like an idiot. Finally, she takes a deep breath and changes the topic. "Okay, now down to business. We need to recruit people for our squad." She pulls out a purple journal, and opens it up to a page with a list of names. "I made a list of potential candidates and their personalities, strengths and weaknesses in dance, and their schedules. I know who's already in a squad with someone. I also compiled a list of the already formed squads and what their strengths and weaknesses are."

Seems like someone's taking this seriously. "How did you get all that information?" I ask in awe.

"I have my sources," she says mysteriously. I'm really starting to admire Massie Block; she's both amiable and reliable. I guess that I really am lucky to have her on my side. "So," she continues, "your ex-roommate, Justine, and her friend Alexia are available, wanna ask them?"

"Justine and I were never really good friends. She was always more popular than me and hung out with the cool, A-list group of kids," I say. "Are you sure she's not already on a squad? She's the type of person who would have a squad formed the minute it was announced."

Massie shrugs. "I don't know. How about Kayla and Hailey?" She points to two blondes sitting a few seats down. I don't recognize them, but then again, I never really made an effort to talk to everyone, and no one made an effort to talk to me. I notice that Kayla has long, wavy, waist-length honey blonde hair and innocent baby blue eyes. She has a pink headband in her hair, and comes across as a girly girl. Hailey, on the other hand, has super straight white-blond hair with a pink streak in it, and piercing ice blue eyes. She comes across as more of a daredevil. I guess they might be nice to have on a team.

"So you want a team of four, not a team of five?" I say after a few seconds.

"Yeah, because it's easier with an even number." Massie taps her purple feather pen against her chin and crinkles her eyebrows, staring at the journal. "Well," she finally says, "they do the same types of dance as us. They're supposedly really nice, outgoing people. Hailey's a good choreographer, so maybe we can get her to choreograph the entire dance. Kayla's extremely graceful and an excellent dancer overall. They would both be great for the squad."

"Whoa, slow down. You're talking like you're sure they'll say yes."

A smirk forms on Massie's lips. "Because I am. Meet me in front of Pinkberry when dance classes end at 5. I have a plan."

**: :**

Dance class will kill me one day. I survived an hour of ballet. An hour of modern/lyrical. An hour of character (dances from around the world). And now we're on jazz/hip-hop. We've done the same routine at least fifteen times now, and I still don't know most of the steps. And it's supposed to be an easy one. I wipe a bead of sweat off my blemish-free (not for long) forehead and take another sip of water. I feel faint. I can't survive this. "Girls, from the top!" Miss Ross commands. She presses 'play' on the stereo, and the sound of 'Battlefield' by Jordin Sparks fills the room for the sixteenth time today.

I try to clear my mind and just get lost in the music, but it's not working. _Why does love always feel like a battlefield, a battlefield, a battlefield? Why does love always feel like..._ I make eye contact with Massie, and she offers me a small smile. I'm so jealous of her; she never seems to mess up. She's always on the beat and gets all the steps right. I glance around the room, searching for Kayla and Hailey. I find them up front and center, enjoying themselves. Kayla's standing straight and tall, which is something I just can't seem to achieve ('stop slouching, Alicia.'). Hailey just exudes confidence and I can tell that she was born to lead. They really would be nice to have in our squad. I wonder what Massie has planned, but knowing her, it's definitely great. I just really hope this plan works. _Both hands tied behind my back for nothing..._

"Alicia, watch out!" Massie shrieks, but it's too late. I'm sprawled out on the floor, having slipped on a tiny pebble. A pebble. Really. I know it wasn't an accident that a pebble just so happened to end up on the dance floor; the janitors work long hours to make sure that the floor is spotless and dance-able. I eye everyone in the class suspiciously, wondering who could've done this, but no one looks guilty.

Massie gives me a wink. _I've got this, _she mouths. She walks up to the front of the room, turns the music off, and places her hands on her narrow hips. "My friend, Alicia Rivera, slipped on a pebble that was 'accidentally' left on the dance floor. Care to tell me who did this?" she questioned. No one answers, but a few giggles ensue. "If no one confesses, I'll take matters into my own hands. So you better confess now."

"Okay, fine," someone from the back huffs. "It was me, all right?" I sit up and see that the girl who confessed was none other than Justine's bestie, Alexia. "It was just a joke; I wasn't trying to be mean or anything. I'm sorry, Alicia."

I manage a small smile. "It's okay, Alexia." I dismiss it with a quick wave of my hand. "Let's just forget about it, yeah?" Alexia nods.

"Thank you, Alexia, for apologizing," Massie says. "I expect you all to be nicer to Alicia from now on. She's one of you now."

You have no idea how much I love this girl.

**: :**

After jazz/hip-hop class, I go back to our dorm to take a quick shower before meeting Massie at Pinkberry. When I get there, Massie, Kayla, and Hailey are already waiting for me. When she sees me, her face brightens. "Alicia! Hi."

I wave shyly; I never know how to act around other girls (Massie being the exception). I pull at my hair nervously. Do Kayla and Hailey hate me? Do they think I'm clumsy? Do they think it's worth it, being in the same squad as me? A million questions raced through my head, but then I glanced at Massie out of the corner of my eye; she was smiling warmly and I knew I was going to be fine. "Hi!" I say, a little too enthusiastically. But hey, at least I'm making progress.

"So," Massie says, "I don't think you've met. Kayla and Hailey, this is Alicia. Alicia; Kayla, and Hailey." The three of us smile awkwardly. No matter how friendly Massie tries to be, we'll still be strangers. "Anyway," she continues, "Alicia and I were thinking of forming a dance squad for the competition. I got this brilliant idea; we should do multiple dances in one. A part of the dance should be ballet, another should be modern/lyrical, another should be jazz/hip-hop, and another should be character. We can incorporate what we learn in our classes into our routines to create a - well, _perfect_ routine. I know that you two are great dancers, your skill level is just ah-mazing; so Alicia and I would like to invite you to join our squad."

I smile. Massie really does have a way with words. Kayla seems to think so too, because she says, "We actually haven't joined a squad yet, but I'd love to join yours! I have a feeling that we're going to win." She brushes her honey blonde ringlets away from her face and smiles, a blinding white smile. Mark the date and time, I officially like this Kayla girl.

"I guess I'm in." Hailey shrugs absentmindedly, tugging on her pink streak. "Under one condition: I get to choreograph."

"Done," Massie is quick to agree. "I just _know _that we'll have tons of fun with this! And we can all help Alicia get better at dance." She glances at me, and I offer a slight chuckle. "Now let's all get some fro-yo. On me."

We enter the shop, and order our frozen yogurt. Kayla, Hailey, Massie, and I hit it off right away, and we're talking like we've been BFFs for ages. At 6:00, we all head down to dinner in the cafeteria. Massie and I let Kayla and Hailey go first. "Mass," I begin, "that was a great plan. And now we have a squad. I can't thank you enough, really."

Massie laughs. "There was no plan. I was just winging it. But hey, it worked anyway, so that's great, right? Cheer up, Leesh. We have a squad now. You have friends. You'll survive this year. We'll win. Mark my words."

Maybe, with Massie by my side, I will survive this year. But I know that there are harder obstacles to overcome. If I made it through the first day, I can make it through the rest of the days. I can do this. I _will _do this, or my name isn't Alicia Rivera.

* * *

**reviews **are greatly appreciated. :)

rachel


	4. boot camp training

**iv.  
**boot camp training

The only word to describe my first week of my sixth year at the Westchester Dance Academy is _crazy. _The teachers worked us until our feet were bleeding (okay, not everyone's, just mine), wanting to make sure "we didn't forget how to dance over summer break." It's like this every week. I'm finally glad that's it's over, because during the second week, things start to become normal; the 'new' students aren't really new anymore though some are still getting accustomed to the schedules. It's a Friday night, and I like to spend my Friday nights sitting on my bed, reading and listening to music. Unfortunately, Massie Block has other plans.

"Alicia Rivera, what do you think you're doing?" Massie says, sounding a lot like my parents and my teachers here. "Get your lazy butt off of your bed! We have a routine to perfect." She pulls out a calendar from her Chanel bag, and continues, "Today is Friday, September 6th. The day of the competition is on Friday, May 23rd. That means we only have 37 weeks, which is equivalent to 259 days.

"Wait, I just remembered," I say, "Grace Woodward's throwing her annual back-to-school party today. We can't miss it. It's the first party of the year, and the only one I _actually_ attend." _Even though no one even bothers to talk to me, _I add in my head, but don't dare to say it out loud.

"Sorry, no partying for you until you improve your flexibility and overall technique, Miss Rivera." Massie smiles, shaking her head. "We are going to stay right here, stretching and practicing routines."

My eyes widen slightly at the mention of this. "What? No. I never signed up for Massie Block's Dance Boot Camp! Why do I have—"

I am interrupted when Massie grabs me by the arm and drags me to the center of the room. "Show me just how unflexible you are," she commands, in the manner of a drill sergeant. I gulp, but bend down in an attempt to touch my toes. Ha, I don't even get past my ankles. I expect to see Massie shaking her head and muttering _pathetic _under her breath, but she keeps her cool and says, "Looks like we have a lot of work to do, Leesh," adding a slight chuckle.

I manage a weak smile, and say, "Now what, sir?" If Massie is offended by my calling her _sir, _she doesn't comment on it.

She begins to pace around the room, examining my body shape. "I've compiled a list of different stretches we can do. Hailey is currently working on our routine; she says she'll have it ready, or at least the first draft thingy, by next Friday. So you cannot disappoint with your inflexibility. Welcome to Massie Block's Dance Boot Camp."

I let out a snort of laughter, but am silenced immediately with a single glare from Massie. "These stretches will hurt, but they'll help you. I got most of them online We won't work on toning the rest of your body for now._Flexibility _is key. Oh, and remember to always stretch _after _a workout; stretching _before _actually weakens the muscles for ten to fifteen minutes."

"M'kay." I shrug. How hard can this be? Every day, during dance classes, we do ten minutes of stretching. I mean, I sit in the back and fake-stretch; usually, I get away with it. There are a few times when I've been caught, but all Miss Ross did was yell at me to _try harder._

"Alicia, you have potential to be a great dancer, you know that, right?" _Actually, I didn't know that, but continue, _I think to myself. I realize that Massie is expecting an answer, so I quickly nod. "You have a passion for dance, and you know it. You can be the top dancer in sixth year if you tried. Remember, don't dance for other people. _Dance for yourself."_

_Don't dance for other people. Dance for yourself. _That's the best advice I've ever gotten; the teachers generally don't give advice like that. These eight words just gave me the strength to keep dancing, to work harder and put my mind to everything I do.

"Okay, I'm ready, Mass. Hit me with your best shot."

Massie grins, elated at the fact that I am willing to listen to her and join her so-called boot camp; she pulls out her sparkly purple notebook and begins to read out of it. "Okay, Leesh. Stretch number one: _the pike stretch._This leg stretch targets the hamstrings," she announces professionally. "Sit on the floor with your feet pointed straight ahead of you. Bend your torso forward and reach for your toes. Your first goal is to touch your toes doing this stretch. After that, we'll move on to getting your chest and stomach flat on your legs. One suggestion; flexing your feet helps, just grab onto the soles of your feet."

I sit down on the fluffy pink rug located in the center of the room with my feet in front of me and reach for my toes. Again, I don't make it past my ankles. Massie sighs, and says, "Alicia, do you want me to push your back? It'll hurt, but it really helps." At the sound of this, I wince. Miss Ross tried the same thing on me last year; it worked a little (I touched my toes), but I had back cramps for the next few days.

"Maybe later. Can I just get acquainted with all the stretches today, and nothing else?" I ask.

Massie shrugs, nodding. "Okay, so you know how to do number one now, right? Stretch number two: _the butterfly. _This stretch is great for increasing flexibility in you inner thighs. Sit on the floor with the soles of your feet together." She pauses as I follow her instructions. "Keep your back straight, Alicia! Do. Not. Slouch." I quickly straighten my back, not wanting to get yelled at again. Massie is surprisingly vicious. "Now try to lower your knees to the floor. Hold the stretch for at least 15 seconds before releasing." I lower my knees as far as they can go; Massie nods curtly, approving it. "Resting and repeating the stretch will increase leg flexibility, especially if your inner thigh muscles are very tight. We won't do that now."

"Stretch number three: _the front lunge. _This stretch helps increase flexibility in the hip flexor and hamstrings. Put your one leg in front, make sure you're bending it, with the knee directly over the toe. The back leg should be straight, with weight only on the ball of the back foot." This one's easy, we do it all the time in the short thirty minutes of P.E. we have at the WDA; it kind of hurts my leg, but I guess that's the point.

"Great job, Leesh!" Massie gives me two thumbs-up. I beam. "Stretch number four: _the straddle. _It increases leg flexibility in the inner thighs and hamstrings. Sit on the floor with your legs spread wide in a straddle position." I'm pretty familiar with this one, too, since we do it in warm-ups for dance class(es). Once I do as I'm told, she immediately shrieks, "Wider, Alicia! Aim for 180 degrees! You're sitting in 90! Now turn to the right and reach for your right foot. Repeat on the left side. Finally, try to lay your stomach flat on the ground."

I try my best on the right and left foot part, but when we get to the last part, I gulp; I can't do this. I take a deep breath and reach forward anyway. Yeah...no. Not working. Massie sighs, exasperated. "It's okay, Leesh. Keep working at it. Moving on now. Stretch number five: _the wall straddle. _Pretty self-explanatory; lay on your back with your legs and butt—" She pauses to laugh, and I join in as well (we are _so _immature) "-against a sturdy wall. Open your legs to a straddle position. Alicia, 180 degrees! At least _try._"

"I'm trying, I'm trying," I whimper. "Can't we just take it one step at a time? Maybe today my goal is to get it to 91 degrees."

Massie just chuckles, shaking her head. "I suggest you just relax and sit in this position for a while. It really helped me increase my leg flexibility."

"Mass, you were _unflexible _before?" Somehow, I'm incapable of imagining a non-flexible Massie. She can lift her leg all the way up to her head, and do front splits (with both legs) and center splits as well.

"Yup. I wasn't as bad as you - no offense - but I still wasn't as flexible as I, and other people, wanted myself to be. These are the stretches I used, and look where I am now. So it works. I promise you, it will work, if only you follow my instructions. You can never go wrong with Massie Block's Dance Boot Camp." As soon as Massie finishes talking, there's a sharp rap on the door; she proceeds to answer it, seeing that I'm currently in a difficult position. "Hailey, Kayla! What are you two doing here?"

I quickly get out of the position, finger-comb my messy black tresses, and sit on the floor as if nothing was going on. "Hey, Massie. Hey, Alicia," Kayla says. Hailey just waves. "We've been told to inform you that the competition has been moved up to Friday, May 16th. Which means that we only have _36 _weeks, or _252 _days to work on our routine."

I arch a not-so-perfectly plucked eyebrow. "Are all three of you counting down the days?"

Hailey nods. "Yup. Oh, and do you guys want to join us at Grace Woodward's party? We're having a blast." I make eye contact with Massie, and mouth, _I told you it was the party of the century. _She mouths back, _you never said that, you just said that we can't miss it, ha._

I roll my chocolate brown eyes and say, "Sorry, but Massie here is making us do workout exercises. We'd absolutely _love to _go, but I'm afraid we. Have. Other. Plans."

"Oh, well that's fine," Hailey says, "good luck, you two!"

"Bye," I say; Massie shuts the door behind them.

"Now, where were we?" She doesn't even bother to talk about what just happened, and jumps right back in without missing a single beat. "Right. Stretches number six and seven: _front splits and center splits." _Eep, no. "We'll gradually work our way to over-splits, but right now, we're working on just getting your splits flat. I suggest putting one leg on the mini barre -" That's right, we have a mini barre in our room. "-and trying to touch your head to your knees; if you can do that, then try your chest and stomach."

"Can I do that later?" I'll do _anything _to get out of this.

"Okay, fine. But you're going to have to do it sooner or later." I silently cheer as Massie says these words. "Anyway, there's also something else we can do; you have to hold the bar with both hands, but face the opposite wall. Basically, you have to tendu forward with one leg, and I take your leg and left it as high as it can go. You have to keep yourself steady and keep your back straight or else it doesn't work."

"Ugh, fine. Can I do that later as well?" Massie rolls her eyes, but nods. "Thanks," I say. "I don't think I have the strength to do that today. It sounds like it really hurts."

"Actually, it doesn't hurt much," Massie remarks. "I mean, you'll feel this burning in your thighs after both of those stretches, but it really helps."

"I hope it will. If it doesn't, then all my hard work will go to waste," I say with a laugh.

"Anyway, here's your daily workout schedule," Massie says, handing a piece of paper to me, "make sure to follow it carefully; don't leave _anything _out. You have to do these stretches along with your other simple stretches. The presidential/national fitness test starts in a few weeks, you have to make sure you at least get national for the sit-and-reach, okay? Oh, and if you do a good job on your workouts, I will reward you with a designer fashion accessory of your choice."

I smile-thank her; that seems like a great reward for me. I proceed to stare at the enormous workload waiting for me. Actually, it's not that enormous, but almost achievable for an unflexible person like myself.

_Alicia Rivera's Workout Schedule_

_Morning; 6:30 a.m. - 7 a.m. - _all the stretches

_Afternoon; 5 p.m. - 5:30 p.m. - _all the stretches

_Afternoon; 5:30 p.m. - 5:45 p.m. - _curl-ups: 30 reps; sit-ups: 30 reps; push-ups: 10 reps (for now)

_Evening/night; 8 p.m. - 8:30 p.m. - _all the stretches

_Evening/night; 8:30 p.m. - 9:00 p.m. - _workout room on first floor: treadmill, running for fifteen minutes (to begin with)

"Mass! I thought you said we were only focusing on stretching," I groan in displeasure. I _reallyreallyreally _hate sit-ups, curl-ups, and push-ups.

"Oops, guess I lied. Sorry," Massie replies, not looking the least big sorry. "C'mon, Leesh, this is going to be good for you! You'll need to be well-rounded physically for the presidential/national fitness test."

"Eh, who cares about those? I always fail," I say. I honestly don't give a fudge about the presidential/national fitness testing. It just makes unathletic people like me feel really bad about themselves, and athletic people like this girl named Sophia Weiss feel really good about themselves. "I also don't see how running will help me in dance."

Massie's amber eyes widen in surprise. "Running is a measure of endurance. I saw you in dance classes this week. By the end of it, you looked like you were about to faint. So running will help you stay strong through the four hours. Oh, by the way, I'm also compiling an exercise playlist for you to listen to while working out, but it won't be ready until Monday, sorry."

"Okay, fine, I'll follow my schedule exactly and won't leave anything out. Is that what you want?"

She nods. "Perf. I have faith in you; you can do this, Alicia! Just believe in yourself." I sigh, but decide to give it a shot. Maybe Massie's master plan will work and I'll become more flexible and a better dancer. But for right now, I can only hope.

**::**

**countdown until the _westchester dance academy end-of-year competition_:**

**36 weeks; 252 days**

* * *

**a/n: **so i don't own the first five stretches. they're taken from an article called _leg stretches that increase flexibility for dancers and gymnasts _on _yahoo! voices. _so yeah. (but i didn't do all of them) numbers six & seven, well, everyone knows. and the ones massie 'came up with,' i don't own those either, we actually do that in ballet class. and yes, your thighs do burn after you do those. trust me, i know. in ballet class, we don't really have a name for it, haha. when we do them, we just call it 'stretching.'

anyway, kayla, your turn. :) even if you don't update something soon, i'm still updating the beginning of an era.

i like **reviews, **my darlings.**  
**

xo rachel

p.s. you guys like the new cover?

_this or that question: _**chocolate **or **vanilla?**


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